Reception and Revelations
by ReferenceGoddess
Summary: McCoy attends the Vulcans' memorial service and learns a few things.
1. R&R 1  Realization

Star Trek (2009)

Receptions and Revelations

At the end of my story _Worse Than His Bite_, I promised a story about the meeting of Spock Prime and New!McCoy. For better or worse, here it is.

Standard Disclaimers: "Star Trek" belongs to whatever corporate entity that it belongs to this week. It sure as heck ain't me.

Timeline. After the Enterprise's return to Earth after the Narada incident but before the end of the movie. Also, after my story _Echoes of Another Past_

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1 - Realization

Leonard McCoy finally realized that the tightness in his chest was not being caused by the altitude. The Vulcans had expressed a desire to hold a traditional memorial service after the heavy losses they had borne. Many locations were offered, and they had chosen the north rim of Earth's Grand Canyon as the most appropriate site. But it wasn't oxygen levels at 2500 meters above sea level that was making it hard for him to breathe. It was, he finally acknowledged to himself, grief.

He hadn't given himself time to grieve, really hadn't had time to grieve First half the Enterprise's medical department had died, and he had been elbow deep in the wounded. Then Kirk managed to rescue Captain Pike, and he had been busy getting that parasite from Hell out of Pike's spinal cord. And while others were allowed time and space to count their losses when they limped back into Earth orbit, there was no rest for the medical teams. Some injured had been found in escape pods from the destroyed ships (too few, far too few) near what had been Vulcan, but mostly it was identifying remains.

Finally released from Star Fleet Medical, they had run the gauntlet of reporters and staggered back to the dorms, only to meet the first of a deluge of shocked parents, devastated spouses and bewildered children, all there to collect the belongings of their loved ones. Instead of collapsing on his bed, he had spent hours helping bereaved families pack up, and, more often than he was comfortable with, providing a shoulder to cry on.

Now he was here, listening to the chanting of the gathered Vulcans, the music floating in the thin air. The sky was starting to darken, the bright blue changing to purple and red. His eyes swept the gathered Fleet personnel. The crowd wasn't anywhere near as large as it should be, should have been. It hit him like a phaser blast to the chest. He could feel his control slipping. Damn it, he wasn't going to have an emotional breakdown here, in front of everyone. Crying at a Vulcan memorial service was probably a breach of protocol, he thought with a slightly hysterical edge. He turned on his heel, and with a muttered "Excuse me" to a startled Jim, started threading his way through the crowd. He broke through the back ranks and strode quickly down the path to the centuries old lodge. As soon as he rounded a bend in the path, he peeled off and headed for the dark pine woods. He stumbled over a few fallen branches in his quest to get out of sight of the path.

And then he sat down heavily on a fallen log, buried his face in his hands and wept. Wept for Puri, who was supposed to teach him the fine points of running a hospital/trauma center/counseling clinic in a glorified flying tin can. For Tas'leh, his Andorian lab partner in Xenopathology, who always twisted her right antennae just so when she was teaching him another rude word in her language. She had been on the Farragut. For Gaila, Nyota's roommate and Jim's latest girl friend. For his study partners and classmates and teachers. And yes, even for the Vulcans, who were trying so desperately to convince everyone, including themselves, that they had no emotions. Right, like he was ever going to believe that again after that display Spock gave on the bridge of the Enterprise.

He was there a long time.

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This story is turning out longer than I originally intended, so here is part I. Part II is still pretty rocky - remember, feedback = cookies for writers!


	2. R&R 2  Reassurance

Reception and Revelations II

Standard disclaimers: _Star Trek _isn't mine - I'm just borrowing the characters. No money was made.

Sorry this took so long. My laptop had to go to computer sickbay.

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2) Reassurance

He wasn't sure just how long he had been there. He really should get up and get back to the ceremony. The eastern sky was already dark, although he could see orange and red streaks in the west. Wouldn't that be a hell of a thing, to survive a crazed, planet-killing Romulan, and then die by falling over the edge of the canyon in the dark?

He fished about in his medical kit until he found an antiseptic wipe. It was lucky that he had his kit, he thought as he wiped his face. Some officious idiot had stopped him at the ramp to the shuttle back in San Francisco and told him that medical kits were not part of a dress uniform. Spock, the hobgoblin himself, had stepped in and kept McCoy from making a scene. In his best Humans-exist-in-this-galaxy-to-try-Vulcans'-patience voice, he informed the man that "to deprive a physician of his tools is not logical."

"Doctor, are you well?" said a cool female voice. McCoy was on his feet before he knew what he was doing. Childhood conditioning, he thought to himself sardonically. An elderly Vulcan woman in the dress uniform of a Star Fleet Admiral was looking at him, the faintest hint of concern on her face.

Ma'am, Admiral T'Pol, I..." he trailed off. Great, he had tried his best not to burden the Vulcans with his emotional distress, and here he was, facing a legend among both Humans and Vulcans.

"At ease, Doctor," she said.

"It's just I didn't want to bother anyone, I..."

"Your courtesy is appreciated, but not necessary. Your people must grieve in your way, as mine do in ours."

"Uhm, thank you, ma'am."

She made a motion to him back towards the path. He nodded and fell in beside her as they slowly picked their way through the woods. They were nearly to the edge of the woods when she stopped. He looked at her, question in his eyes.

"I remember an incident from my service on the Enterprise," she said. "There were two crewmembers who were very close. They planned to get married when the ship returned to Earth. There was an accident in engineering. The young man was killed." McCoy stayed silent, wondering where she was going with this.

"At the time, the young woman showed some signs of grief, but within two days was back on duty. I thought at the time that she was showing a superior control of her emotions. I wondered why all Humans could not be like her."

McCoy made a humphing noise. She raised one eyebrow at him.

"Indeed, Doctor. I was a fool. Four months later, as several of my Human colleagues had predicted, she had what Tr...Engineer Tucker called 'the mother of all emotional melt downs'." After a moment's pause, she headed towards the path again, McCoy following in her wake.

There were people on the path now, heading towards the old lodge. McCoy guessed the ceremony was over. Even in the fading light he could see a few other people emerge from the woods. It made him feel a little bit better, knowing that he wasn't the only one who had had to get away. They were about to step onto the path when a voice, frail with age, stopped them.

"T'Pol!"

She turned to face the elderly man in the hover chair. "Jonathan."

Wonderful, thought McCoy. Yet another Fleet legend - Jonathan Archer, captain of the first warp capable Enterprise. He was not going to be able to slink away quietly. He came to something approximating attention.

The old man's eyes were on T'Pol. "How are you holding up?"

Her response was slow. "I have been better. I find meditation difficult." McCoy felt uneasy, an intruder on a very private conversation.

Archer turned his attention to T'Pol's companion. He squinted up at McCoy. "And you are, Cadet?" he prompted.

"Dr. Leonard McCoy, sir."

"McCoy, McCoy," the old man mused. "Enterprise?"

"Yes sir."

Admiral Archer looked up at McCoy, an odd smile on his face. "That was an interesting performance on the evening news, Doctor."

McCoy's heart sank. No one had called him on the carpet for that little incident with the reporter, not yet.* The clip had been played and replayed on Earth, hell, probably all over the Federation by now. Cornered and badgered by reporters, he had lost his temper and yelled at the most annoying of the bunch. He hadn't looked very little much like a professional that day. With his two-day old stubble and blood-shot eyes, he had, as Jim informed him, looked like some old hermit come down from the mountains to preach doom and the end of days.

"Do not worry, Doctor. Although you couched your opinions in emotional terms, you did not say anything that contradicted official Fleet policy on the matter. Also, it has been noted and logged that the medical teams had been working for 49.3 hours straight before anyone thought to call in replacements.

"Thank you, ma'am.

"And I've never liked that weasel of a reporter," muttered Archer.

There was a long silence. "Oh, if you have to talk to anyone else, Doctor, go on," said Archer. "We old folks can entertain ourselves."

McCoy nodded his thanks. "Can I get anything for you, Admirals?"

"No thank you, Doctor," answered T'Pol.

He walked off towards the main gathering in front of the lodge. He overheard Archer say, "Reminds me of Trip."

"The regional accent, no doubt," said T'Pol.

Just before McCoy was out of earshot, he heard Archer reply, "Yeah. Mind you, Trip would have flattened that reporter."

McCoy wandered aimlessly through the crowd, wondering if he could sneak off and catch a nap in the shuttle. No, he better not do that. With his luck, he would get on the wrong shuttle and end up in Paris, or on the Moon. Maybe he should just find Jim. Jim could at least make sure he stayed awake and made it on the shuttle. He didn't need to add going AWOL to his list of troubles.

"Doctor, could I have a word with you?" said a voice behind him. He turned to face a tall, dark-haired woman. She was wearing a stunning dress, with a Star Fleet administration badge pinned to one shoulder. She was an older woman, but damned fine looking, he thought.

"Why, thank you Doctor. You're very handsome yourself."

This day was just getting better by the second. She was Betazoid. Just shoot me now, he thought.

"That would be a waste of a perfectly good surgeon," she chided him.

"Err, yes.. Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked.

"I am Commissioner Beltranna Grex, of the third house of Betazed. You treated my niece six months ago. Deleela Selmarki, daughter and heiress of the fourth house of Betazed, Lady of Lake Cataria."

He cudgeled his memory for a long moment. Enlightenment dawned. "Oh, yes, the young woman who was hit by a hoverbike. Drunken driver, I think." God, that had been a mess. Eighteen hours in surgery, and several touch-and-go days in ICU.

"Yes, that's her" said Beltranna. She smiled at him like he was a particularly clever student.

"How is she doing?"

"Very well, thank you. She's on Betazed now, working on her physical therapy. The doctors were very impressed with your work. If you ever decide to leave the Fleet, there will be a job for you on Betazed."

"Thank you, ma'am, but an entire team of surgeons worked on her."

She tilted her head slightly and studied him. "You know, many people say things like that, but you're one of the few who actually means them. I like you." Her smile became broader. "She's getting married next year. If you happen to be nearby, you are, of course, invited. I would love to see you there." Was it his imagination, or was there some double meaning in her statement that he was too exhausted to catch?

"No, it is not your imagination. But, of course, since my family owes you such a debt, I will have to recuse myself from your hearing tomorrow." Oh, God, yes. The hearing into why he had found it necessary to bring Jim Kirk aboard the Enterprise. At least there was still a planet to hold a hearing on.

"Exactly, Doctor," she said, responding to his thoughts again (and wasn't that damn annoying?) "Alas, they will find there are no handy telepaths to take my place on the board. Just stick to the regs and you'll be fine." She beamed at him, and then looked over his shoulder. "Excuse me, I must talk to Captain Nogura." She brushed past him as she left. McCoy stood up straighter, startled. Had she just? At a memorial service, of all places?

"Bones! I was starting to worry." It was Jim, thrusting a glass of something unfamiliar looking at him. "Was it my imagination, or did Commissioner Grex just pinch your ass?"

McCoy glared at Jim and took a big swallow of the liquid. It was good, fruity, but not cloyingly sweet. Non-alcoholic, of course. Vulcans believed that the imbibing of metabolic poisons was most illogical.

"I take that as a 'yes', then," smirked Jim. "And did I hear her correctly? She invited you to her niece's wedding?"

"Yes, Cadet Eavesdropper, she did."

Jim's grin got bigger. "Well, you know what they say about older Betazoid women."

"No, I..." McCoy paused. Oh yes, older Betazoid woman went through something they called The Phase. And then a lesson from comparative anthropology class about wedding customs throughout the Federation popped out of some corner of his mind. To his annoyance, he could feel himself blush.

"Anyway, Bones, you've got to come with me. You have to meet someone," he looked around, and lowered his voice. "The er, guy, who saved me on Delta Vega."

McCoy raised his eyebrows at that. Jim had told him the entire crazy story about a time-traveling Vulcan and the mind meld during trip back to Earth. He was one of the few people who knew the whole truth. While still en-route back to Earth, Jim had been given orders to conceal the real nature of the elderly Vulcan now known as Ambassador Selek. That mad Scotsman and his short assistant (McCoy hadn't even had to time to look up Keenser's species) knew the truth, as did Commander Spock and Uhura. Jim grabbed him by the arm and towed him through the gathering and onto one of the many terraces overlooking the canyon.

There was an elderly Vulcan there, tall and spare. The elder Spock's eyebrows raised in what McCoy thought was recognition. They had never met, but this Vulcan knew another McCoy, another him. He returned the favor by studying the elderly Vulcan's face closely. Yes, he could see young Spock looking like this, in a century or so. Spock seemed to be searching his face as well.

"Doctor Leonard McCoy," said Spock simply. McCoy was startled by the older man's tone. His face was serene, but his voice seemed to contain both gladness, and even, surprisingly, affection.

McCoy arched an eyebrow at him. "So, sir, do I meet your expectations?"

"Fascinating. Although you bear little physical resemblance to the Leonard McCoy I knew, in essentials, you are him. Tell me, Doctor, have you called my counterpart a "pointy-eared hobgoblin' yet?"

McCoy's horrified face was all the answer the other two men needed.

"Bones, you didn't?" asked Jim.

"He had just dumped you on that god-forsaken ice ball. I was angry."

"Yet another difference in the time lines," said Spock. He did not seem offended. "In my time, it took ten Earth days before my McCoy resorted to name-calling. Of course, he was older than you, and no doubt had mellowed somewhat with age."

Jim snorted. "A mellow McCoy. I'd like to see that." He looked at McCoy. "And you have the nerve to call me an infant, Bones."

And, you, being a in-control-of-yourself Vulcan, didn't retaliate, right?" asked McCoy, pointedly ignoring Jim.

Spock seemed unfazed by the question. "Indeed I did. I usually suggested that the good doctor head down to sickbay to polish his beads and rattles. It never failed to irritate him."

Jim stifled a laugh, while McCoy glared at them both. The ghost of amusement on Spock's face faded.

"I also have some valuable medical information from my time for you, Doctor."

"Aren't you worried about messing with time and all of that?" Jim asked, concern in his voice.

"In this particular instance, no. I owed my McCoy two great debts, for which I was never able to adequetely repay him," replied Spock evenly. He hand two data discs to McCoy. Jim looked over his shoulder at the label on the top disc.

"Xenopolycythemia - Treatement and Cure." he read.

"This is great news!" exclaimed McCoy. "Research on that disease has been stalled for so long. How did you get this?"

"In my time-line, we came upon a ship. The database of the Fabrini was particularly rich in medical information. We were able to adapt their cure to suit Human physiology."

"This is wonderful," enthused McCoy. He took one look at the label on the other disc and froze.

"What's myoneuropanalga-whatever? I've never heard of it." asked Jim, frowning at the label.

"It's rare, very rare," said McCoy faintly. Everything around him seemed to fade a bit.

"Bones, Bones?" It was Jim's voice, sounding hollow and distant. A strong hand grabbed his elbow and pushed him gently but firmly onto one of the stone benches on the terrace.,

"My apologies, Doctor. I had forgotten that with Humans, sometimes good news can be as shocking as bad news."

"Bones, what's going on?" demanded Kirk.

"Muh daddy," said McCoy, and then he stopped to compose himself. People complained that he was hard to understand when he got upset. Uhura could understand him, but then, she was a linguistic goddess. "My father. About four months ago he started showing the first symptoms. It's a horror of a disease. It destroys the muscles and motor neurons, while stimulating the pain receptors. It leaves patients begging for death."

Spock nodded gravely. "In my time-line, the cure came too late to save the older Dr. McCoy. It gave my McCoy much pain. He had saved so many, yet could not save his own father."

"Bones, why didn't you tell me?" asked Jim.

"Right after I found out, I was sent out to Capella for that mission, and you were so busy with that killer course load you're carrying," Jim interrupted him.

"You know, for such a smart guy, you can be a real idiot sometimes. You're supposed to tell friends this kind of stuff."

"Yeah, and you're so open and aboveboard with your personal problems," retorted McCoy.

"You got me there. Let's just promise that we'll try to do better in the future."

An ensign came up to them, stopping the discussion. "Cadet Kirk?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Admiral Komack wants a word with you."

"Right." Kirk looked down at McCoy, still sitting on the bench. "You going to be OK?"

"Yeah, thanks. Run along. Don't keep the admiral waiting."

Kirk pushed his plate of hors d'oeures into McCoy's hands. "Eat something, buddy. You look like hell." He walked away, leaving McCoy with Spock.

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*See my story "Echoes of Another Past"

Part of this is based on something I witnessed over 20 years ago. A woman I worked with lost a close family member. After a few days, she claimed she was fine, and ready to move on. I remember all of us looking at each other and shaking our heads. The emotional meltdown came six months later; it was not pretty.

For those who missed those certain episodes of Star Trek Next Gen, Betazoid weddings are naked affairs - couple, family, guests, everyone. And when Betazoid women reach a certain age, they get rather...frisky.

This story assumes that neither Kirk nor McCoy know that Kirk is going to be made Captain.

If you know the show, you'll be able to take a pretty shrewd guess as to the two debts Spock is referring to. 5 virtual brownie points to the first reader to ring in with the correct answer.

In Star Trek V, it was revealed that McCoy's father had an incurable disease that left its victims in horrible pain. A few weeks after McCoy agreed to his father's request to "pull the plug" a cure was found. The disease was not named, so I cobbled together a partial name from a list of medical Greek and Latin roots.

All hail the Memory Alpha site, that keeps me from making enormous blunders - the small ones are bad enough.

If you ever get the chance, do visit the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Views are just as spectacular, and it much less crowded than the South Rim.

The third and final chapter is partially done. Remember! Feedback = food for muses. Still chugging away at part III - the major scenes are there - just trying to get them to flow smoothly into each other is a slightly bigger challenge. Suffice it to say one of the most hated women in Trek lore will make a cameo.


	3. R&R 3  Reminiscence

As always, standard disclaimers apply to this and all other fan fiction. Not mine, Creative Commons, all that.

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3) Reminiscence

McCoy found it slightly unnerving to talk to the older Spock. Time-travel, alternate dimensions; it was like something out of twentieth century literature class. Or was it unsettling because this Vulcan actually seemed to have a sense of humor? At a rare loss for words, he took an appetizer off his plate and popped into his mouth.

"Good food," he said, and then cringed mentally. Trying to make cocktail party small talk with a Vulcan? He really was a mess.

"An old friend of mine once said that all of his people's holidays were based on the phrase, 'they tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat'," Spock said.

McCoy looked at him askance. "That sound's vaguely familiar."

"My friend said it was a very old saying." Spock studied McCoy closely.

"Will you be staying with the Enterprise, Doctor?"

McCoy looked up at the old Vulcan sharply. He had told no one, not even Jim, that he was considering resigning his commission. The fleet had reluctantly offered to release any cadets who felt emotionally compromised by the Nero incident. He was still having nightmares (when he got any sleep at all) that featured half of the medical team on the ship dying in Nero's first attack. And a planet falling in on itself. Damn it, space was disease and death, wrapped in endless, suffocating darkness. Spock continued to look at him calmly.

"I..I..," he trailed off, then took a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess so. Someone has to watch Jim's back. Well, assuming we're assigned to the same ship, and assuming they don't just throw me out on my ear tomorrow. I've never seen anyone who can attract trouble like he can. Jim and a whole damn ship load of kids" McCoy gave a mirthless laugh. "Though I suppose we all look like kids to you."

"Younger, of course. Children, no. Not even Mister Chekov. And, under the circumstances, I believe the odds of you being thrown out on your ear, or any other part of your anatomy, vanishingly small," said Spock with that odd almost-smile, the smile that faded so quickly that McCoy wasn't even sure he had seen it.

It was full dark now. The Moon, a day or two past full, was rising in the east. It cast everything in a harsh silver light, highlighting the bones of Spock's face. McCoy felt a sudden pang of compassion for the elderly Vulcan. This Spock had unbent enough to admit feeling friendship towards at least some Humans. And what had those ungrateful Humans done? Grown old and died, leaving him all alone. All of the Vulcans had lost their planet; many were the only surviving member of their families. But this Vulcan had lost his entire universe. And then, to his great consternation, McCoy let out a great yawn. "I beg your pardon, sir."

"Overworking, Doctor?" McCoy could hear the unspoken 'again' in Spock's voice. It was just so odd, to think that this stranger knew everything about him or at least a version of him. As was his bad habit, he took refuge in irritability.

"Only out of necessity," grumbled McCoy. He stretched out his back and rose from the bench. He tucked the data discs into his medkit and picked up the plate and glass. He noticed that he could now see his breath; it did get cold in the high desert country once the sun set. He wondered if elderly Vulcans were as sensitive to cold as their Human counterparts.

Spock seemed to anticipate him. "Would you like to move indoors, Doctor? I find I do not tolerate cold as well as I once did. And the McCoy I knew was not overly fond of cold weather either."

"Yeah, lets go inside. Jim invited me to Iowa once, for Spring break. Visiting with some old friends of his. I thought April wouldn't be too bad. You know it snows there in April? Positively indecent."

They walked into the old park lodge, and stood a little bit away from both the doors and the crowd inside. A few hardy souls, such as Scott, had stayed out on the terrace. McCoy cynically thought that Scott would rather face the cold temperatures outside rather than the icy reception he would get from Admiral Archer inside.

The doors opened, letting in a cold draft. A young Vulcan woman stood there for a moment, her eyes sweeping the room, til they came to rest on a knot of people that included young Spock, Uhura, and Ambassador Sarek She sweep past Spock and McCoy, heading right towards the grouping. McCoy noticed Spock was looking at her with perhaps a hint of surprise in his expression.

"Who's she?"

Spock considered a moment before answering. "To employ one of your Earth folktales, Doctor, I believe that the evil fairy has come to the christening."

McCoy digested that for a moment. "So, are you saying we should round up all the spinning wheels in the Federation?"

"Only metaphorically, Bones." That really did get McCoy's attention. Jim Kirk was the only person who addressed him by that peculiar nickname.

"Is she anything else to you?"

"In my former timeline, she was what you would call my ex."

McCoy nearly choked on his drink. "I didn't think your people had divorce."

Spock got a distant look in his eye. "It is rare among my people, true. Ours was an arranged marriage, decided between our families when we were children. But we never completed the ceremony. She chose to challenge the arrangement."

Curiosity won out over politeness. "What happened?"

"For all that my people pride themselves on their logic and reason, some of our customs have not changed since before the days of Surak. She wanted another, so she chose the kal-i-fee, the challenge." There was a pause as the older Spock seemed to consider his words. "In this case, the challenge was a fight to the death."

McCoy could feel the blood drain from his face. "Damn it, that's barbaric! That's..." The ambassador raised his hand.

"Believe me, doctor, your counterpart said all of that, and more. And seeing as this happened in my timeline when we were several years older than you are now, he had more time to develop a truly impressive vocabulary of invective."

"Sorry, Ambassador," muttered McCoy.

"I rather think not," said Spock. "As I said, she chose the challenge - but she did not send Stonn, her preferred mate, to do battle with me. She chose Jim."

"But, but..." sputtered McCoy.

"Indeed. Neither of your counterparts understood the implication. Jim accepted the challenge, thinking he could knock me out, or surrender if necessary. He was afraid that I would be forced to fight Stonn." There was a long pause.

"And then?" prompted McCoy, riveted.

"And then, Doctor, I tried to kill him. My captain, my best friend. I was deep in the Plak-tow, the blood fever. Mate, kill, or die."

McCoy thought back to the fight on the bridge of the Enterprise. An enraged Spock had nearly killed Jim. Only Sarek's intervention had saved Kirk. He had to force himself to ask the next question.

"Then your Jim...died?" he said softly.

"No."

"But you're here. Then how?"

"You. Or rather, your counterpart. He was being forced to watch one friend kill another. It seemed to be a no-win situation; his own personal Kobayashi Maru. He passed it much in the way Jim passed his."

"I, he cheated?"

"He changed the conditions of the test. He looked T'Pau of Vulcan in the face and lied. He said he was giving Jim a tri-ox compound to compensate for Vulcan's thinner air, to 'even the playing field' as Humans say. In fact, the drug was a neuro-paralyzer. Jim collapsed, I thought I had killed him. McCoy beamed immediately to the ship with Jim's body, to give him the antidote. T'Pring and I had words,"

"I bet," muttered McCoy.

"I came back to the ship, prepared to resign my commission and surrender myself to Star Fleet authorities. To say I was both surprised and pleased to discover that Jim was alive and well would be an understatement."

"In your usual restrained way, of course." said McCoy.

"At the time, I was still trying to prove that I was more Vulcan than pure-blooded Vulcans. Therefore, I did not report to my McCoy that I had badly strained my levator labii superiorus, and other associated muscles."

McCoy thought about that a second, and found himself unconsciously using the named muscle himself. "That would have been something to see," he said.

Spock nodded towards the group around his young counterpart. Young Spock looked stiffer than usual. Sarek had allowed a slight look of displeasure to cross his face. Uhura, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with outrage. They could not see T'Pring's face from this angle.

"Do you know Uhura?" asked Ambassador Spock.

"Yes. Jim has been flirting with her, unsuccessfully I might add, since day one."

"What do you think Uhura's reaction will be to T'Pring?"

McCoy considered the grouping across the room. Uhura had moved forward, so she stood slightly ahead of Spock. "I think," he drawled, "that if T'Pring is planning on laying claim to young Spock, she had better have some backup. A platoon of berserker Klingons might do the trick."

"Indeed, that is my assessment of the situation." Again, McCoy wondered at the hidden humor in Spock's tone.

A young Vulcan came up to the Ambassador. "Sir, it is time for your shuttle to depart."

"Very well. I shall be there in 3.4 minutes." The young man gave an abbreviated bow and walked away.

"Doctor, I must leave now." He lifted his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Leonard."

McCoy tried to get his hand into something approximating the same position, and said, "Ah, you too."

The elder Spock started to turn away but then halted. "I do not know if events will unfold here as they did in my own time. But I will still leave you with two pieces of advice, Doctor. The black knight is quite real, but the gunslingers are not." And with that he strode out the door and towards the shuttle landing site.

McCoy looked after him in bafflement. "What the blazes did he mean by that?"

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Spock's old friend and the quote "They tried to kill us..." is a reference to the character David Rabin, a kick-ass Israeli from the novel "Star Trek: Vulcan's Forge" by Josepha Sherman and Susan Schwartz.

Spock's parting remarks refer to the TOS episodes "Shore Leave" and "Spectre of the Gun"

Ah, weather in the Midwest. I lost a shipment of nursery plants that way. Delivery guy left it on my porch the first week of April - said shipment was covered by 8 inches of snow by the time I got home from work.

What to work on next? I have two rather angsty stories in the works, one post "Mirror, Mirror" and one post "Plato's Stepchildren" - but I fear my talents do not lie that way. But I was at a talk at a science fiction convention on writing fan fic, and the importance of stepping outside one's comfort zone. We'll see how it works out.


End file.
